Another day, another screening. This one, “My One and Only,” was at the Paris Theatre. Based on the life of George Hamilton, it stars Renée Zellweger as George’s mother.

Talking about her own mom, Renée said: “Growing up I did not have any life of great wealth and luxury. My parents were immigrants from Norway. They couldn’t get visas. My father, an engineer, worked hard and ended up in Canada. They had nothing. And yet I was spoiled rotten.

“See, my mother, in her way, had everything. Every day she’d make me lunch and snacks and sit me up on the kitchen counter and tell me I could have the world. I could have anything I wanted. And I believed her. Her values were not monetary, never based on what we could acquire. And yet she gave me everything.

“She never told me I’d be prettier if I did such and such or I’d grow up to be this if I did that. She always just told my brother and me we could make anything we wanted of our lives. She was always there for us.”

And does Mom now see her kid, who is off that kitchen counter and in a brown silk one-shouldered Carolina Herrera movie-star dress? Renee grinned, then: “We’re always together. My mom just turned 70. I was with her two days ago. I love her so much.”

Talking mothers, George remembered his. “Ann, my mom, had this great social scene later on, but there was a time things weren’t rosy. However, you could never tell with her. She would always tell us that we could trust in Him and that The Divine One would provide divinely. She’d say things like, ‘Broke is like when you’re in a poker game. Everything could change in the next hand.’ When we had nothing, she’d order food from a high-class grocery like a Gristedes and then invite everyone to a party. As a result, we were never afraid.

“She’d tell us, ‘Always go forward. Never be chickens – – t.’ ”

Somewhere twixt George and Renée I saw the terminally joined Badgley Mishka. Couture’s Chang and Eng. Which is Badgley, which Mishka, I never know. One said: “Today, instead of somebody buying five gowns, they buy only one.” The other added: “And now mostly for special occasions.” Although God knows I remain modest and unassuming, I tell you I was dressed to the eyeballs in beige embroidered seashells. Badgley or Mishka, whicheverthehell he was, appraised me, then offered: “I like your lipstick.” And how’s that for a fashion compliment!

Then in came a kid named Logan Lerman, who plays young George and said: “I’m not really like him, although I never met him while we were filming. In fact, I just met him two hours ago.” And? “And I was thrilled. And he said he liked my work.”

SIRIO of Le Cirque has not been eat ing lousy hospital food. All his for mer five-star chefs like Daniel Bou lud took turns cooking for him and bringing dinner over. He’s home today . . . Eau de Poop. Cosmetics heir Prince Lorenzo Borghese, of TV’s “The Bachelor,” now making a line of doggy fragrances called Royal Pet Treatment . . . The Harlem Gospel Choir pays tribute to Michael Jackson Sept. 13 at B.B. King’s . . . Elijah Wood of “The Lord of the Rings” likes to lord it over a bargain. High-fived a pal in a grocery store who found a discount deal on juice . . . Diane Kruger got off a plane, and four hours later had cooked a dinner for eight. The secret? “Simple stuff. And it was good friends. And I had everyone chip in. Like one friend chopped the onions.”

DON Hewitt, creator of “60 Minutes,” just left this station. Don was so smart. So savvy. When Bill Bratton, who’s now left his LA top-cop job to head back East, was preparing to brush NYC for LA, Don said in my ear: “Trust me, he’ll buddy with power people. Ain’t gonna be Barbara Eden or Woody Harrelson.” Another time, at a cocktail party, he whispered to me: “The ’20/20′ people want to know how they can pass us and get in the Top 10. I sent word: ‘Only one way. Convince Ellen DeGeneres to go back in the closet.’ ”

Don was obsessed with ratings. Words like hypersensitivity . . . little tolerance . . . short patience . . . brilliant withering judgments . . . made his program’s screening room a screaming room. Were his life ever made into a movie, he said he wanted James Garner to play him. But that was ’95. Who he’d pick now, I don’t know. I do know that, somehow, even from On High, Don Hewitt will be pulling the strings.

SO, treating myself on our recently nicest summer day to an afternoon off, I, all alone, meandered through Central Park. It was delicious. New Yorkers snoozing, sunning, sitting, staring, reading, feeding babies, walking dogs, biking, hiking, running, rollerblading, bird-watching, reading the words on Daniel Webster’s statue along the 72nd Street pathway when someone recognized me and said, “Isn’t New York great?” This “someone” just moved to Florida to escape our local state taxes.